


words fall through me (and always fool me)

by savanting



Series: The Phantoms' Songbook [3]
Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Canon Questioning, Death, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Meetings, Flirting, Gen, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Short One Shot, Speculation, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, What Could Have Been, boy meets girl, squint and it might be canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27021004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savanting/pseuds/savanting
Summary: The other guys of Sunset Curve may have been focused on the show that night, but Reggie has other unfinished business from what should have happened that final night. One-Shot.
Relationships: Julie Molina & Reggie, Reggie & Rose
Series: The Phantoms' Songbook [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925812
Comments: 5
Kudos: 111





	words fall through me (and always fool me)

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own anything relating to _Julie and the Phantoms_. I know the identity of Rose is not necessarily Julie's mother, but I had to play around with the idea a little, at least in fan fic! And I just really wanted something soft and sweet for Reggie, who I imagine is a little lonely compared to his bandmates. So this is my little fic for Reggie, my fave, who needs more love.
> 
> Do forgive me if nothing fits timeline-wise with the little scene between Rose and Reggie. I also have no idea if we can guess Rose's age in 1995. It's been a little while since I last watched any episodes of the show.
> 
> The title comes from lyrics in the song “Falling Slowly” by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova.

Time _did not_ heal all wounds.

With a ghostly fingertip, Reggie reached out to trace a face in one of the Molina family photographs on the mantelpiece in the living room. The woman in the photo sat behind a keyboard, a toddler-size Julie in her lap, her face lit up with a smile that still had the power to catch Reggie off-guard even though it was a static thing in the picture.

Even without the same youthful features, Rose was still recognizable to him, the only one who had talked with her for more than a spare moment that last night before everything had ended.

Luke was still too hell-bent on having his music heard, and Alex was falling in love, but Reggie had realized the truth a long time ago.

He just hadn’t said a word to his fellow bandmates, especially Julie. But even back when the ghosts of Sunset Curve had met Julie, Reggie had felt a familiarity that he hadn’t been able to shake, especially when her lips curved upward, unrestrained in their expression.

Julie had her mother’s smile.

*

“You guys were sounding really good,” Rose said, leaning forward eagerly as Reggie’s other bandmates discussed the upcoming show at the Orpheum. But even with their big break within their grasp, Reggie couldn’t help minding a bit more that he still hadn’t managed to get this girl’s phone number. If the show was the sundae, then securing Rose’s number would have been the cherry settled right on top.

“Are you a fan?” Reggie couldn’t help asking as he stood in front of the counter. In the back of his mind, he was thankful he hadn’t had a chance to eat today; it would have been mortifying if Rose had backed away because of the last vestiges of lunch emanating as he spoke.

Rose grinned, and Reggie fancied that – even in the unreliable dim light – she was blushing. That was usually a good sign, right? “I’ve heard a few songs here and there,” she said, “but I never thought I’d get to meet you guys.”

“Well, here we are – in the flesh, as they say,” he said – but regretted it a moment later. Had the words come off as sleazy? He hoped not. God, where was one of his wingmen when he needed one?

But Rose didn’t seem to mind his slight misstep – if it had been one at all. “I feel so lucky to work here,” she said, her voice soft as if she were sharing a secret. “I mean, I get to hear all these great performers, and – and it’s inspiring, you know?”

Reggie might have felt flattered, but he was still too focused on Rose’s smile. Did anyone realize how much power a smile could have? “Yeah,” he said, his voice falling just as soft as hers had. “Inspiring.”

Rose stared back at him, and he imagined this would have been a movie moment if they had been actors: it would have been too easy to bridge the distance and kiss her, as simple a gesture as a handshake or a hug.

But this wasn’t a movie. And Reggie wasn’t smooth like an actor.

The moment passed, and Rose offered an awkward little laugh. “Well, I gotta get back to work,” she said, holding up a rag as if she had neglected her cleaning for too long. “Big show tonight, you know.”

As Rose ducked into a back room, Reggie tried not to let the slight bother him. There was plenty of time to talk to Rose again.

After all, he still had tonight.

*

That _tonight_ had never ended up happening.

Reggie sighed; even as a ghost, it was hard to give up some human normalcy, like the instinct to breathe. And when he was by himself, Reggie sighed _a lot_.

Sometimes it was hard keeping up the act of being the jokester in the group, but it was better than the alternative: he could imagine how dull or somber it might get with all the drama from Luke and Alex and even Julie.

Reggie’s coping mechanism had always been to try and make people laugh, especially when there was a tense moment. That habit had translated well to a ghostly existence with two of his bandmates.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?”

Even as a ghost, Reggie jumped up from his seat on the living room couch in Julie’s house, his hand flying to where his heart would have been. “Jesus! You almost scared me to death, Julie!” When the girl did not look amused by his words – instead just shaking her head and rolling her eyes – he muttered, “Oh, wait,” as if he could have _forgotten_ being a ghost.

But Reggie had become a better actor in his time in a stunted afterlife. He couldn’t forget, but he could _pretend_ he had.

Still looking unamused, Julie crossed the room towards him. “Are you okay, Reggie? You haven’t seemed yourself lately.”

Reggie thought he might lie – _”Oh, you know, I’m just going through an afterlife crisis, no big deal”_ – but then he looked at Julie’s face and felt startled that he could _see_ Rose in her gaze. It was as if the girl from the past had walked out of some type of time continuum to stand before him anew.

His almost girl, the one who was imprinted on his memory because she was the _last_. The last one to make him smile, the last one he flirted with, the last one to make his heart skip a beat.

But Julie wasn’t Rose – and Rose was gone anyway. She had lived, she had grown older, she had married and had children, and then she too had died.

Yet Reggie was the ghost while Rose had passed on. Rose had lived without regrets and bore no unfinished business. At this point, Reggie could not say the same.

Reggie looked into Julie’s eyes and found he couldn’t just make a flippant remark like he usually would have. His throat, ghostly thing that it now was, felt like it would have closed off any joke of any kind if he had tried to voice one at that moment.

“Do you have any more of your mom’s songs?” he blurted out, and Julie’s eyes widened. Whatever she had been expecting, a question about her mother likely hadn’t been high on the list.

“Uh, yeah,” she said, and Reggie knew she probably would have changed the subject instead of answering if he hadn’t caught her off-guard. “There are folders of them in the studio. Why do you ask?”

“I was curious,” Reggie said, not filtering the truth like he usually might have. Then he gestured to the picture frames on the mantelpiece. “Sometimes I look at those photos and think how lucky we are that she loved music so much – that she helped _you_ to love music so much.”

Julie’s eyes settled on the line of pictures. “Yeah,” she said softly after a moment. “Yeah, we are lucky.”

Then she looked back at him, and Reggie was again struck by how much Julie looked like Rose. How did the other guys not _see_ it? Had Rose not left enough of an imprint on them for the familiar resemblance to go unnoticed?

If Reggie had been a living boy instead of a ghost right then, he might have taken Julie’s hand or brushed his fingertips along her cheek, any kind of gesture that might have been one of endearment or affection.

But he clenched his hand into a fist even as the impulse struck him.

Julie was not Rose. Rose was gone. And forgetting that would lead to heartbreak all around.

While the thoughts streamed through his mind, Reggie was startled into awareness by Julie’s fingers clasping over his hand. A touch, so foreign now, but a miracle because of Julie’s connection to the ghosts of Sunset Curve.

If Reggie’s breath could have been stolen, that moment would have been the time.

“If you need to talk about something, Reggie, I’m always here,” she said, her eyes never straying from his as she spoke. “Don’t forget that.”

Right then might have been the time for a joke, a laugh, something to break the tension.

But instead Reggie just smiled as he stared at the daughter of the last girl who had been the last of everything for him.

“Thanks, Jules,” he said. “You really know how to hit a guy right in the feels.”

The modern slang Reggie had learned from Carlos caused Julie to grin in delight.

And somehow just that one little thing made everything all right.


End file.
